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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098778">The Parting Glass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine'>eternaleponine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Music, Reunions, St. Patrick's Day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:41:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke agrees to join her friends for a night out on St. Patrick's Day, even though it's also the anniversary of her father's death and not a day she feels much like celebrating.  When the evening's entertainment strikes up their final song of the night, though, Clarke finds herself face-to-face with another ghost from her past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarke Griffin/Lexa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>375</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Parting Glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Octavia slid into the booth next to Clarke, knocking against her with a force that Clarke suspected wasn't entirely intentional.  "Jesus, Griff.  You're going to curdle the beer with a face like that," she said, nudging her with an elbow that felt especially pointy.  </p>
<p>"Let her be," Raven said.  "It's... <i>you know</i>..."  </p>
<p>Clarke didn't look up to see what gestures Raven was making or how she was contorting her face to try to convey to Octavia that for her it wasn't just St. Patrick's Day.  She hoped Octavia would pick up what Raven was putting down without it turning into an extended game of charades, because she really wasn't in the mood for guessing games about why she might not be feeling particularly festive.</p>
<p>She'd regretted agreeing to come out at all almost as soon as they'd arrived at the pub.  There were too many people and too much noise, and Clarke wondered, not for the first time, how what had started as a religious holiday had turned into... this.  She knew they celebrated the day in Ireland – she'd witnessed it first-hand – but she still couldn't help feeling a mild (or not so mild) distaste at how had been appropriated and Americanized into an excuse to get shitfaced.  Like Cinco de Mayo, but with green beer.</p>
<p>She'd almost bowed out then, deciding misery didn't love company after all, but she didn't want to disappoint her friends – she didn't want to disappoint anyone, ever – and she knew her father wouldn't want her to stop living just because he had, five years ago today.</p>
<p>"<i>Ohhhh,</i>" Octavia said.  "Shit."  She threw her arm around Clarke and leaned in.  "That sucks," she said, breathing beer fumes into Clarke's face.  "Want me to get you a drink?  I know time heals all wounds, but liquor is quicker."  She winked, grinning.</p>
<p>Clarke just rolled her eyes and shook her head.  She'd been nursing the same pint of Guinness since their arrival, and she hadn't reached the bottom yet.  "Maybe later," she said, and took another sip as if to prove her point.  Guinness was an acquired taste, but it hadn't taken Clarke long to acquire it.  What wasn't there to love about a beer milkshake that was once advertised as a health food?  </p>
<p>And it made her feel closer to her father.  He hadn't been much of a drinker, but he had allowed himself a celebratory pint every year when March 17 rolled around.  Clarke didn't even think they were Irish, but her father had been fascinated by the country's culture and history nevertheless.  It had been on his bucket list to visit – they'd even started planning a trip for after her high school graduation – but he hadn't made it.  </p>
<p>She'd gone alone, on the one-year anniversary of his death, and had drowned herself in alcohol and memories they would never share... and then in the lips of a girl with pale green eyes and a gentle, lilting voice, who she'd met busking on the street and emptied her wallet for (not that she'd had a lot, but it was the thought that counted).  </p>
<p>For nearly two weeks, they'd shared everything: meals and stories and dreams and a bed.  They'd shared every part of themselves, even parts they rarely – if ever – let anyone else see.  The night before Clarke's flight home, or really that morning because it was long past midnight, she'd asked Clarke to stay, and maybe she'd been joking or maybe she hadn't, maybe it was just the sort of sweet nothing you whispered with your lips pressed over someone's heart while your fingers crept slowly down their thigh when you knew you would probably never see them again.  </p>
<p>Clarke had parted her legs for her, parted her lips to say, 'I can't,' or 'I wish I could.'  For a single wild second she'd even thought of saying, 'Yes, okay.  Yes.'  But what had come out was, 'I love you,' and she'd immediately sucked in a breath like she could suck the words back in, bit her lip until she tasted blood to keep them from escaping again.  </p>
<p>She'd looked up, those brilliant green eyes luminescent in the slowly gathering dawn, and smiled.  "I'll always be with you," she'd promised, and set about making sure Clarke's body wouldn't forget her during the long, long flight home.</p>
<p>So really, it wasn't only her father she mourned every year at this time, although his loss still, and would always, cut the deepest.  The loss of the girl she'd loved – thought she'd loved, said she'd loved – was more like the loss of a sweet dream, or a beloved character: an ache tinged with unreality, a grief impossible to explain, even to herself.</p>
<p>She chugged the last few gulps of her Guinness and set the glass down with a thud.  "Now you can buy me a drink," she said.</p>
<p>"On it," Lincoln said, edging out of the booth because people would get out of his way a lot more quickly than they would Octavia.  If Octavia was sober, it might be a different story – she had perfected the art of projecting an aura of murder when she wanted to, and no one was getting in her way then – but she was most assuredly not.  With this many people crammed together, and the taps flowing almost non-stop, it was pretty much inevitable that someone would decide to get handsy, at which point Octavia's fists would fly, and they would probably end up on their asses on the curb.  </p>
<p>Lincoln returned a few minutes later with another pint for Clarke and another round for everyone else, and they settled in to listen to the band that had struck up in the corner.  Clarke's back was to them and she didn't turn to look, just let the melodies and rhythms wash over her, taking her back to other, better times.</p>
<p>She only realized she was crying when Raven tucked an only slightly soggy napkin into her hand.  Clarke opened her eyes and forced a smile.  "Thanks," she said as she sniffled and dried her cheeks.  "They say it gets easier, but..."  </p>
<p>"Yeah," Raven said.  She stretched her arm across the table and let it rest on Clarke's wrist, just for a second, before retreating back into her own space.  </p>
<p>Time seemed to slow down and speed up all at once, and in what felt like minutes that was actually more than an hour, the band announced that this would be their last song.  There was a shuffling sound, and a moment later a new voice – female and lyrical – lifted and filled the air, casting a spell that dulled the roar of the crowd into nothing more than white noise.  </p>
<p>
  <i>Of all the money that e'er I had</i>
  <br/>
  <i>I spent it in good company</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And all the harm I've ever done</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Alas, it was to none but me</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>And all I've done for want of wit</i>
  <br/>
  <i>To memory now I can't recall</i>
  <br/>
  <i>So fill to me the parting glass</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Good night and joy be with you all</i>
</p>
<p>Clarke sank back, pressing the cool glass of her pint against her chest, where her heart pounded against her sternum hard enough she could see it through her skin.  She felt her throat tightening and her eyes stung with tears again, but this time she didn't try to stop them or wipe them away.  She just let them fall, and from the quiet that had descended, she thought maybe she wasn't the only one suddenly ensnared in their own emotions.</p>
<p>
  <i>Of all the comrades that e'er I had</i>
  <br/>
  <i>They're sorry for my going away</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And all the sweethearts that e'er I had</i>
  <br/>
  <i>They'd wish me one more day to stay</i>
</p>
<p>At the word 'sweethearts', Clarke's breath caught, and her heart tripped in its rhythm.  Because the voice, which had been haunting from the first word, was now hauntingly familiar, a ghost from the past which she'd tried to hold on to even when she knew it might be better to forget.  </p>
<p>But it was impossible... wasn't it?  </p>
<p>
  <i>But since it fell into my lot</i>
  <br/>
  <i>That I should rise and you should not</i>
  <br/>
  <i>I'll gently rise and softly call</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Good night and joy be with you all</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Fill to me the parting glass</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And drink a health whate'er befalls</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Then gently rise and softly call</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Good night and joy be with you all</i>
</p>
<p>Clarke turned slowly, afraid of what she would see... but more afraid of what she might not see.  At first there were too many people between her and the makeshift stage in the corner, and she rose half out of her seat to try to get a better look.  Then someone shifted and the crowd parted just enough for Clarke to get a clear line of sight.</p>
<p>Pale green eyes locked with hers, and for a fraction of a second the voice faltered, a quick intake of breath that was barely noticeable if you hadn't learned every tiny hitch and sigh of someone, every gasp and moan.  </p>
<p>And it was impossible, for her to be here, now.  Of all the pubs in all the world...</p>
<p>But she was.  </p>
<p>She <i>was</i>.</p>
<p>Her voice was steady again as she eased into the final refrain, telling them one last time, "<i>Good night and joy be with you all,</i>" before setting down the mic and climbing down from the stage.  <br/>"Out," Clarke said, pushing at Octavia who was now more asleep than not, lulled by the music into a drowsy stupor.  "I need to get out."  </p>
<p>Octavia grunted and begrudgingly shifted off the end of the bench, content only when Lincoln took the opportunity to reel her into his lap.  She leaned into his chest and nuzzled against his throat until he turned to kiss her.  It was only a matter of time before Raven told them to get a room, and before they decided to leave to do exactly that, but Clarke didn't stick around to find out how long it took.  </p>
<p>She wound her way through the crowd, glad she'd paced herself drinking so she was able to navigate the spaces between bodies with some level of dexterity.  If she'd had to, she would have used a more bull in a china shop approach (although hadn't Mythbusters proven that bulls were surprisingly light on their feet?), but for now the path of least resistance was allowing her to progress across the room quickly enough that the band was still gathering up their instruments.  </p>
<p>"Lexa?"  The name was a breathless gasp, barely more than a whisper, but she heard it anyway, and looked up.  </p>
<p>And it was her.  She was a little older, her face a little less round with a few more freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, but it was absolutely, indisputably her, here, and all Clarke wanted to do was throw her arms around her and kiss her until they were dizzy with it.</p>
<p>"Clarke."  </p>
<p>Lexa's expression and tone were unreadable, and a piece of Clarke's heart threatened to break off entirely at the thought that maybe Lexa didn't remember her.  But she'd just Clarke's name, so she had to remember <i>something</i>.  But what if they remembered things differently?  What if, in the four years since their brief but beautiful affair, she'd moved on?  Did it even count as moving on when they'd never been anything more than a fling?  They hadn't even exchanged numbers or emails or anything, never given each other a way to keep in touch, and at the time it had seemed the best, the easiest way.  Maybe Lexa would have thought otherwise, but Clarke hadn't given her a choice.  She'd packed up and crept out while Lexa was asleep, naked and beautiful in Clarke's bed.  </p>
<p>Clarke hadn't even left a note.  She hadn't known what to say.  </p>
<p>So what reason did she have to believe that Lexa would want anything to do with her?  She'd broken the girl's heart... maybe.  Clarke knew she'd broken her own heart; she'd felt it shattering with every minute and mile that wedged itself between them.  </p>
<p>The minutes now added into the millions, but the miles had been reduced to nothing, to a fraction of a fraction of a fraction that could be spanned with a single step, if either of them dared to take it. </p>
<p>Clarke swallowed, licked her lips.  "Can I give you a hand?" she asked.  </p>
<p>Lexa looked down at the instruments and cases at her feet, then slowly, carefully handed Clarke the drum she was holding.  It was large and flat, with a Celtic knot pattern that was worn away in places on the skin stretched taut over its surface.  Clarke took it gingerly, gripping it by its edges, and when Lexa offered the matching case, she slipped it inside.  </p>
<p>"It's called a <i>bodhran</i>," Lexa said, even though Clarke hadn't asked.  Maybe she just needed something to say.  </p>
<p>"I remember," Clarke said.  "Is it the same one you had...?"  </p>
<p>Lexa gave a short nod.  "It was new then.  Newer."  She shrugged, moved on to the next thing that needed packing, until everything was safely stowed.  She began to gather up the cases, nodding to other members of the band as they took what was theirs.  Clarke hugged the <i>bodhran</i> to her chest because she couldn't hug Lexa and followed her out into the cold night where a van was waiting.  </p>
<p>She watched as Lexa and the others loaded everything into the back.  There was clearly a method to the madness and she knew she would only be in the way.  Finally Lexa took the drum from Clarke's arms, and Clarke thought she saw the faintest flicker of a smile stretching her lips before fading back into neutrality.  </p>
<p>"Can I—"  Clarke bit her lip.  "Do you have to go right away?"  When Lexa didn't immediately answer, Clarke tried again with the first thing that had popped into her head to ask.  "Can I buy you a drink?"</p>
<p>Lexa nodded.  "All right," she said, and followed Clarke back inside.  </p>
<p>Clarke's eyes immediately flicked to the table she and her friends had been camped at all night.  Lincoln and Octavia were still making out, Octavia now straddling Lincoln and – if Clarke wasn't seeing things and she was pretty sure she wished she was – grinding against him.  Raven saw her and waved her arms in S-O-S.  </p>
<p>Clarke held up one finger, indicating she would be there in a minute, and reached back for Lexa's hand, her only thought that she didn't want to lose her in the crowd, not considering whether Lexa would want to be touched by her or not.  But Lexa's fingers met hers, the tips interlacing, and there were so many memories wrapped up in that touch that Clarke stumbled, and felt Lexa's free hand on her back steadying her.  She glanced back, and this time she was sure Lexa was smiling, and it was only the fact that they were crushed between half a dozen people whose feelings on two girls kissing she didn't know that kept her from turning and wrapping herself around Lexa then and there.  </p>
<p>They made it to the bar, and Clarke was pretty sure she had her tits to thank for the prompt attention they received from one of the bartenders, but maybe it was because Lexa was with her and it wouldn't look good to leave the evening's entertainment waiting.  Whichever it was – maybe a combination of both – they both soon had glasses, and one for Raven who probably needed it more than either of them, and were carefully picking their way between people to return to the table.</p>
<p>"Oh," Clarke said, when they were only a few steps away.  "Did you – do you mind?  Meeting my friends?"</p>
<p>Lexa shook her head.  "Don't mind at all," she said.  </p>
<p>"Thank god!" Raven groaned, taking the offered beer and downing half of it in a gulp.  "They haven't stopped."  </p>
<p>"Did you suggest they take it elsewhere?" Clarke asked.</p>
<p>Raven's look was scathing.  "Well shit, why didn't <i>I</i> think of that?" she sneered, rolling her eyes so hard it looked painful.  "Of course I did!  Repeatedly!  I don't think they can hear me over the sound of their slurping."  </p>
<p>"We can hear you fine," Octavia said, finally coming up for air.  "We just don't care."  She looked over at Clarke and the fresh round of drinks.  "What, you didn't get me one?"</p>
<p>"You were busy," Clarke said dryly.  "Anyway, don't you think you've had enough?  Alcohol isn't exactly a performance-enhancing drug."  </p>
<p>Octavia rolled her hips, and Lincoln groaned.  "Never been a problem before," she said.  </p>
<p>Lexa gave a cough that might have been covering a laugh, and it was only then that Clarke's friends seemed to notice they had company.  </p>
<p>"Wait a second," Octavia said, squinting.  "Weren't you just...?"  She gestured vaguely toward where the band was set up.  </p>
<p>"I was," Lexa said.  "Did you enjoy the set?"</p>
<p>Octavia shrugged.  "Not really my thing."</p>
<p>"O!" Clarke said.  "Don't be rude!" </p>
<p>Lexa just laughed, her hand brushing down Clarke's spine as if to smooth her hackles before coming to rest in the dip just above her ass.  "Fair enough," she said.  "There's plenty of music that doesn't suit me either."  </p>
<p>"Maybe we <i>should</i> go," Lincoln said.  He was more sober than Octavia, because even though he'd matched her drink for drink, there was a lot more of him to absorb it, and he knew well enough that if she was allowed any more she would get sloppy and her filters would go <i>completely</i> off-line.  Which never ended well.</p>
<p>"I'll get you a Lyft," Clarke said.  </p>
<p>"No, I've got it," Lincoln said.  "I'm not going to risk your rider rating with..."  He nodded toward Octavia.</p>
<p>"Hey!" Octavia said indignantly, with an ineffectual jab at his shoulder.  "You just want to get me home... and naked..."  She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows, and Lincoln brushed a quick kiss to her jaw, staying well away from her lips so he didn't get sucked back into a vortex of kissing.  </p>
<p>"I'm Raven, by the way," Raven said, extending her hand to Lexa.  "That's Lincoln and Octavia.  Obviously you've met Clarke."  </p>
<p>"Lexa," Lexa said, accepting the offered hand for a beat before releasing it.  "It's nice to meet you."  </p>
<p>"Nice to meet you too," Raven said.  She gestured for them to sit down, and Clarke started to slide into the booth, figuring Lexa would appreciate the ability for quick egress if it became necessary, but Lexa caught her arm, stopping her.  </p>
<p>"Me first, if we're not to be doing battle," she said, lifting her elbow.  </p>
<p>Clarke blinked.  She'd remembered.  After four years, Lexa had remembered what none of her friends who had known her for those intervening years ever seemed to: that Clarke was left-handed, and they had to be careful of who sat where unless they wanted to be bumping elbows the whole time.</p>
<p>Which she honestly wouldn't have minded – any excuse to touch Lexa – but she stepped aside, allowing Lexa to get situated before sliding in next to her.  </p>
<p>Raven's eyes darted back and forth between them, a frown dragging at her mouth.  "Do you two... know each other?" she asked.  </p>
<p>"You don't know all of my business," Clarke quipped, trying to make light of the situation because she wasn't sure she wanted to get into the fact that yes, they knew each other.  Intimately.  That Lexa was the reason none of the relationships – if they could even be called that – Clarke had had during college lasted for longer than a few weeks or months.  That Lexa had remained lodged in her head and in her heart the whole time, her almost final words to Clarke - <i>I'll always be with you</i> - proving to be something like prophetic.  </p>
<p>Lexa glanced at her, an amused smile curving her lips even as her knee bumped Clarke's under the table.  Clarke bumped back, edging her foot sideways to give a more sustained, steady pressure, wanting – needing – to reassure her, or to be reassured, or both.  </p>
<p>Raven's eyes narrowed, but for once she didn't push.  Clarke knew there would almost certainly be questions later, when Lexa wasn't around, but for now the conversation turned to where Lexa was from and how she'd gotten into music and whether she was enjoying her visit the United States so far.  </p>
<p>When Octavia and Lincoln's Lyft finally showed up, Raven decided – somewhat abruptly, Clarke thought – to hitch a ride with them, since her place was within easy walking distance.  Which left just the two of them, sitting together on the same side of a now half-empty booth that would be better occupied by a group of four... or however many could be crammed in.  </p>
<p>"Do you—"  Clarke swallowed, then took a swallow of her beer to ease the sudden dryness of her throat.  "Do you maybe want to go somewhere... quieter?" she asked.  </p>
<p>Lexa hesitated, and Clarke braced herself to be let down.  She'd thought...  But that's all it was, or had been: wishful thinking, based on nothing but a squeeze of her hand and a press of her knee, and—</p>
<p>"I'll want to let the others know," Lexa said.  </p>
<p>"Of course!" Clarke said, too quickly and too loud, and felt heat creep into her cheeks.  </p>
<p>"I'll be right back," Lexa said, leaning in to Clarke like she meant to kiss her... until Clarke realized she was just hinting that Clarke would need to get out of her way in order for her to go anywhere.  Her cheeks went from pink to something closer to crimson, and she mumbled an apology as she slid off the bench.  "I'll wait..."  She gestured toward the door as a busboy swooped in to gather up their glasses almost before Lexa's ass left its seat, clearing the way for a group to replace them.  </p>
<p>Lexa raised an eyebrow – what if she'd only been going to the bathroom? – and flashed Clarke a wry smile.  "You might as well come with me," she said.  "We can slip out the back rather than fighting through all this."  She lifted a long, elegant hand, and Clarke remembered all too well the first time those fingers had touched her... and all the dozens, maybe hundreds, of times after, in small, casual ways and in heartrendingly intimate ones, and she ached with the memory.</p>
<p>"Come on," Lexa said, taking her hand, interlocking their fingers in a firm, determined grip, and plowed into the increasingly drunken crowd.</p>
<p>It took longer than it should have to reach the corner table where the rest of the band had set up with their drinks, partly because people were just oblivious to their attempts to pass, and partly because they were stopped every few steps by someone wanting to congratulate Lexa and offer to buy her a drink.  She politely accepted the praise and declined the drinks, her smile getting tighter when some – men, all – didn't want to take no for an answer.  Finally, though, they were free of the press of the crowd, and Clarke only realized she'd been more-or-less holding her breath when she was finally able to get a gulp of air that wasn't tainted by the smell of alcohol and B.O.</p>
<p>Lexa was greeted by cheers, and a chair was pushed out in her direction, but she shook her head.  "I just came over to tell you not to wait for me," she said, her fingers tightening around Clarke's.  Clarke found herself the sudden target of four pairs of eyes, and then four knowing – or thinking they knew – smirks.  </p>
<p>"We won't wait up, either," one of them said.</p>
<p>Lexa flipped him off and tugged Clarke toward the door.  They were chased by a round of catcalls, and Lexa gave Clarke an apologetic look when the door finally closed behind them with a loud, final clatter.  "I would blame their lack of manners on the drinking, but they're always like that," she said.  </p>
<p>Clarke shrugged.  "At least they weren't practically fucking," she said.  "I'm sorry—"</p>
<p>"Don't be," Lexa said, squeezing Clarke's hand again, reminding her that she hadn't let go.  "Did you have somewhere in mind, or..."  </p>
<p>Clarke shook her head quickly.  She did – she had – but despite the fact that they'd been tangled in the sheets of Clarke's hotel room bed within hours of meeting the first time, inviting Lexa to her place only minutes into their reunion felt like it might be too much, too soon.  She didn't want to make assumptions about where this was going.  Well, she did, but she wasn't going to let herself, because if she was wrong... she wasn't sure how much her already scarred and battered heart could take tonight.</p>
<p>"We can just walk," Clarke suggested, even though it was cold enough that her words plumed like smoke from her lips, and late enough that the streets were close to empty, save for a few stragglers on their way too or from one bar or another.  </p>
<p>Lexa's forehead furrowed and she drew her shoulders in, hunching slightly against the cold, but she didn't object.  "Which way?" she asked.  </p>
<p>"That way," Clarke said, nodding to the right because it was better lit.  "One sec."  She unwound her scarf and draped it around Lexa's neck, letting go of her hand only long enough to tie it in a loose half-knot and tuck it into her jacket.  </p>
<p>"Won't you—" Lexa started to ask, but Clarke shook her head.</p>
<p>"I'll be fine," she said, pulling up her coat's collar around her throat.  She laced their fingers back together and tucked them both safely into Lexa's pocket, since she was just slightly taller and it was easier for Clarke to reach up than for Lexa to reach down.  </p>
<p>Lexa instantly looked much more content with the possibility of a late-night stroll.  They set off, easily falling into step with each other, as if this was something they did every day... and it had been, for that glorious stretch of time-out-of-time they'd shared.  Even though Clarke could feel the intervening years between them, the years of silent wishing and wanting and wondering and waiting for a moment she'd never really expected would come, the gap seemed to close just a little with every step.</p>
<p>"So," she said.  "You're here."  </p>
<p>"I am," Lexa agreed.  </p>
<p>"Are you here for long, or...?"  Maybe she was here for school; there were plenty of good graduate programs in the area, although she'd admitted to having never been academically inclined.  Maybe she was just visiting friends, the guys in the band, and would be gone in a few days or a week, or maybe they were on tour together and she would be gone tomorrow, or—</p>
<p>"Already trying to get rid of me?" Lexa teased, an amused smile flickering across her face as if she could hear Clarke's racing thoughts.  But she didn't answer the question, and Clarke didn't know what – if anything – she ought to read into that.</p>
<p>"No," Clarke said.  "I only wondered—"  <i>If you're going to leave me like I left you.  If there's any point in starting again what we won't get the chance to finish.  If we're going to break each other's hearts all over again... assuming I broke yours at all, which maybe I didn't, maybe you were relieved, maybe—</i></p>
<p>"I don't know how long I'm staying," Lexa said.  "They—" she nodded over her shoulder toward the pub they'd left behind, "needed a drummer to help them record an album.  They invited me and I said yes."  She shrugged.  "Technically on a tourist visa I can't work, but what they choose to do with any money they make is up to them.  If they want to pass a little my way..."  She flashed a smile.  "I have six months.  How long I stay depends mainly on whether there's something worth staying for."  </p>
<p>She looked directly at Clarke as she said it, stopping them both in their tracks.  "Oh," Clarke said, the word hanging between them.  And then, because she couldn't back anymore what she'd wanted to say since they'd locked eyes across the bar, "I really want to kiss you."</p>
<p>Lexa's fingers tightened around hers, and her breath leaked from her lips in a soft exhale, her words barely a whisper.  "I wish you would."</p>
<p>When their lips met, it was everything Clarke remembered – soft and sweet and rife with desire – and more.  So much more.  Because they'd been young then, or younger, and thought they'd known heartache, but now... now they knew what it was to love and lose... and find again.  Now they knew what it meant to love someone and let them go and have them come back to you through machinations of the universe that only ever seemed to happen in fiction.  </p>
<p>She pressed up on her toes, disentangling her hand from Lexa's to tangle it instead in her hair, and Lexa's arms circled her waist, pulling their bodies together until there wasn't even space for breath between them.  Time stopped and the world spun in dizzying circles around them while they held still, caught in a moment that Clarke wished would last forever.  </p>
<p>They were yanked back to reality by whoops and whistles that held none of the good-natured teasing tone of Lexa's friends.  Clarke's heart pounded in her chest and tears flooded her eyes, because of course they couldn't have this moment, this one precious moment, for themselves.  </p>
<p>"Let's go," she said, grabbing Lexa's wrist rather than her hand and dragging her back the way they'd come, the voices of their unwanted spectators – but thankfully only their voices – chasing them down the block.  </p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Clarke said, when they were in front of the pub again.  The band's van was still parked in the alley.  "If you want—"</p>
<p>Lexa pulled her in and kissed her again, hard and sharp enough it felt like punishment, but Clarke knew it wasn't her Lexa was angry with.  She backed off a second later, her eyes filled with grief and apology, and she took Clarke's face between her hands with a feather-light touch.  One thumb traced the lower curve of Clarke's lip, as if to heal the harm she might have inflicted.  "I want <i>you</i>," she said.  "Please."</p>
<p>"My car's this way," Clarke said, turning toward the parking lot.  As they walked she tried to gauge whether she was sober enough to drive.  She hadn't had <i>that</i> much to drink, and the adrenaline of seeing Lexa again had burned through some of it, she thought, but she was also half-drunk on Lexa's touch and the memory of her lips and...  "I'm not sure I should be driving," she admitted.  "I can give you directions, if you think you can remember to drive on the right side of the road."  She smirked, and Lexa rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>"It wouldn't be the side of the road that would be the problem," Lexa said.  </p>
<p>Clarke started to fish her keys out of her pocket to hand over before she registered what Lexa had said, and the implication that there was some other problem that would prevent her from driving.  Then she remembered Lexa had had a beer right alongside her, and with her slim build she wasn't likely to have absorbed it any faster than Clarke had.  And <i>then</i> she remembered that as of four years ago, Lexa hadn't known how to drive, which had led to some interesting adventures on windy back roads when they'd decided to venture out of the city with Clarke behind the wheel and Lexa the world's worst navigator.  </p>
<p>"<i>Still</i>?" she asked.  </p>
<p>Lexa shrugged.  "I never had reason to learn," she said, managing to sound both sheepish and smug.  <br/>Clarke just shook her head.  "I'll get us a Lyft."  She slipped her phone from her pocket and brought up the app, hoping they wouldn't have to wait forever.  She imagined every rideshare driver in the city (and nearby suburbs) was busy tonight.  Which was good for them, but potentially bad for her.  Thankfully, the app said someone would be there in ten minutes, which she relayed to Lexa, then leaned into her for warmth.</p>
<p>Lexa's fingers sank into Clarke's hair, gently massaging her scalp, and she turned her head to press her lips to Clarke's head.  Clarke could feel her breath ghosting against her skin, and she wanted to tip her face up for a kiss, but after their rude awakening to the fact that they were not, in fact, the only people in the world, she held back.  </p>
<p>She tried to think of something to say, some kind of polite small talk to make, but every time she started to open her mouth, words that were too heavy for the time they had before their ride arrived rose to the tip of her tongue and she had to shut her mouth, trapping them behind her teeth, before they could escape.  </p>
<p>Finally the car she'd been told to expect pulled up, and after confirming the driver was, in fact, here for them, they slipped into the back seat.  The drive to Clarke's apartment wasn't long, but it would have been a long, cold, and often dark walk, so Clarke was happy to pay for the ride, and a generous tip on top of it to make up for any drunken assholes who "forgot".</p>
<p>"Have a good night!" their driver said cheerfully as she pulled up in front of Clarke's building.  </p>
<p>"You too," Clarke said.  "Stay safe!"  </p>
<p>Her hands shook as she pulled her keys from her pocket and sifted through to find the one for the front door.  She slid it into the lock and grimaced as it turned so grudgingly she worried it might snap off in the lock.  She'd told the landlord about it weeks ago, but he hadn't done anything.  She made a mental note to go to the hardware store to see if there was anything she could find that would let her take matters into her own hands.  </p>
<p>She began the trek up the four flights of stairs to her apartment (the elevator was also out-of-order, and yes, she was very much looking forward to the day when her lease was up and she could find somewhere nicer to live), noticing halfway up that Lexa was lagging several steps behind her.  When she looked back, Lexa grinned.  "Pay me no mind," she said.  "I'm just enjoying the view."  </p>
<p>Clarke choked back a laugh, trying to look angry and failing miserably.  "You haven't changed at all," she said, an accusation drenched in relief.  Something flickered in Lexa's eyes, there and gone, but Clarke knew it without Lexa having to say a word: of course she'd changed.  Clarke had changed her, and everyone who had come after.  </p>
<p>Clarke froze.  <i>What if...?</i>  She tried to dismiss the thought, because Lexa wouldn't do that... would she?  She wouldn't kiss Clarke, certainly wouldn't come home with Clarke, if there was someone else.  She wasn't a cheater.  </p>
<p>Was she?</p>
<p>How well did Clarke <i>really</i> know her?  Eleven days four years ago wasn't enough to know a person – not then and certainly not now.  </p>
<p>Lexa climbed the steps between them so she was at Clarke's side.  "Better?" she asked.  </p>
<p>Clarke swallowed, nodded, continued their ascent.  She tried to push the idea aside, to stuff it down, but it grew and burned like the ache in her quads, and by the time she unlocked her front door and let them in, and Lexa leaned down to claim a kiss the minute it closed behind them, she couldn't contain it any longer.  She dodged the kiss, trying to make it look like it was only so she could take off her coat and slip off her boots, but she didn't miss the flash of confusion and hurt that passed over Lexa's face before she turned away to do the same.  </p>
<p>When they turned back they were like magnets with opposing charges, drawn to each other whether they wanted to be or not.  And god, Clarke wanted to be.  It was all she'd wanted – except to have her father back, and, okay, good grades – for the last four years.  But before their lips could meet again, before she could surrender and let Lexa erase all thought, all worry, all everything but breath and body and the exquisite belonging Clarke had only ever felt with her, she had to know.  She had to.</p>
<p>"There's not... anyone else?  Anyone back home, or...?"</p>
<p>Lexa blinked owlishly, like she'd expected anything but that to come out of Clarke's mouth and it was taking a moment for her mind to reconcile the difference between expectation and reality.  Her touch was light on Clarke's back, still holding her but not too tight.  </p>
<p>"No," Lexa said softly.  "No one back home or anywhere else."  She looked away for a moment, then back at Clarke, intent like she needed Clarke understand and hoped she would see the truth of her words in her eyes if she just looked hard enough.  "There's not been..."  She stopped, swallowed.  "There's been only a few girls since you, and never anyone that lasted.  Mainly tourists, people just passing through—"</p>
<p>"Like me," Clarke said, tensing as the urge to pull away, to retreat and hide and protect herself battled with the urge to pull Lexa closer and stake a claim she had no right to make, because she'd left without a word, without a note, without hope of any sort of future for them.</p>
<p>And yet here they were.</p>
<p>When Lexa spoke, her voice was still soft, still sweet and musical like it had been then, the voice that had coaxed Clarke out of her clothes with practically no effort at all.  But there was an edge to it now that betrayed the steel beneath the silk.  "No," she said.  "Not like you.  Because I never let myself get attached after you."  </p>
<p>Clarke gnawed her lower lip, not sure if she was meant to apologize.  </p>
<p>Lexa gently freed Clarke's lip from her teeth, her touch lingering along Clarke's jaw.  "When I woke up and you were gone, do you know what my first thought was?"</p>
<p>Clarke shook her head.</p>
<p>"I thought, 'If I'd said it, would she have stayed?'  If I'd said, 'I love you, too,' would she still be here?"  Lexa laughed, a bittersweet, aching sound.  "I know it was a fool thing to think.  I know you had to get back to your life, but I couldn't stop thinking if I'd just—"</p>
<p>"Did you?" Clarke asked.  </p>
<p>Lexa's eyes were glassy, the faintest sheen of tears pooling along her lower lids.  "I asked you to stay, didn't I?"</p>
<p>"It's not the same thing," Clarke said.</p>
<p>Lexa let out a breath, not a laugh, not a sigh.  "It was to me."</p>
<p>Clarke's chest hurt, her heart tearing itself at all the weakened places that had never fully scarred over.  "I thought it was just something to say," Clarke insisted, because she needed it to be true.  "I didn't think you really meant it!"</p>
<p>Lexa's eyes met hers again, and Clarke had seen her naked plenty of times, but this was the first time she'd seen her truly, completely exposed.  "Like you saying you loved me?"</p>
<p>"No!"  The word came out before Clarke could think about it.  But she didn't need to think about it, because she'd had years to think about it, to analyze it from every angle and to see nothing but truth no matter how it was twisted and turned.  "No.  I meant that."  She sucked in a breath and told Lexa the truest truth she had, would ever, utter.  "With you I felt alive for the first time since losing my dad.  With you, I believed maybe someday the pain would fade.  With you... I was happy.  God, Lexa.  I was so fucking happy."</p>
<p>"But don't you see, Clarke?  You were all of that to me, too!"</p>
<p>Clarke was shaking, and she wanted to steady herself against Lexa but she couldn't.  Not yet.  "So you loved me."</p>
<p>"Loved?"  Lexa shook her head, her lips twisting into a soft, sad smile.  "Clarke, I never stopped."</p>
<p>Clarke felt Lexa's tears spill, felt the wetness on her cheeks as their mouths met, the kiss as brutal as the honesty they'd kept too long in check, and she kissed it away, her lips dragging over her cheeks to brush tenderly along the lids of her eyes, Lexa's eyelashes fluttering and tickling her before she tipped up her face to claim Clarke's mouth again.  </p>
<p>They left a trail of clothing in their wake as they stumbled from the door to Clarke's bedroom, until they were stripped to nothing but the bare essentials, which felt not only non-essential but unnecessarily burdensome as Lexa fumbled with the tiny hooks behind Clarke's back and Clarke struggled to free Lexa from the overly tight confines of her sports bra.  </p>
<p>When Lexa finally managed to get the last hook loose, she eased the straps from Clarke's shoulders and the cups fell free.  Lexa's teeth sank into her lower lip, an appreciate smile tugging at her mouth, and Clarke felt a sudden rush of heat suffuse her body with the memory of how it had been Lexa's gaze (and hands and mouth) that had made her truly believe for the first time that she was beautiful.  It had been under (and beside and on top of and...) Lexa that Clarke had learned to love her body, to embrace its softness along with its strength, because Lexa had.</p>
<p>God, Lexa had...</p>
<p>"May I?" Lexa asked, hooking her thumbs under the elastic that circled Clarke's hips, and at her nod she eased it down, fingers gliding over Clarke's ass and down her thighs with the lightest touch.  She leaned back to take her all in, and Clarke squashed the flicker of self-consciousness that threatened to take over and make her hide, not just physically but emotionally and she didn't want to do either because she'd done both for too long.  </p>
<p>"You are so beautiful," Lexa whispered against her lips, a shiver running through both of them as breasts and bellies met, and they only pulled apart long enough for Clarke to divest Lexa of her underwear before they toppled into Clarke's bed and tangled themselves in each other and the sheets.</p>
<p>For a few moments they struggled between too fast and too slow, not agreeing (maybe not knowing themselves) what they wanted, whether they wanted everything all at once or to (re)discover each other a little at a time.  They grappled with each other and themselves until they both just stopped, stared, and slowly, tentatively, smiled shy, shaky smiles.  </p>
<p>"I missed you," Clarke said, tears filling her eyes and spilling over.  "Every day, Lexa, I missed you.  Nothing... no one ever compared to you.  No one ever even came close.  Most of them never lasted more than a night because—"  </p>
<p>"Shh," Lexa said, and now she was the one kissing away Clarke's tears, her lips soft against the corner of her eye and her temple, along her jawline and up to her ear.  "I know."  And then, against the place where Clarke's pulse throbbed beneath her skin, "I missed you too.  Every day... and every night... god, especially every night..."  </p>
<p>Clarke believed her.  </p>
<p>And so she surrendered.  She opened her legs and she opened her heart and she let Lexa (back) in.  And Lexa, who had never been nearly as good at guarding herself as she wanted people to believe, maybe as she really wanted to be, poured into her, and let Clarke fill her up in return, until they were hardly two people anymore.</p>
<p>So much had changed in four years, but also so little.  When Clarke whispered in Lexa's ear, it still made her squirm, the tickle somehow centering itself in her belly and lower, and Clarke took great pleasure in telling Lexa everything she remembered, every little thing she'd missed, as she traced her fingers through her slick folds to scratch that itch... metaphorically speaking.  And Lexa still tried and failed to contain the sounds she made as she got closer and closer to climax, until they and it exploded out of her, leaving her shaking and shaken in its wake.  And she still wanted – needed – to be held close after, like she might fall apart if Clarke didn't hold her together.  </p>
<p>And Lexa still knew the rhythms of Clarke, which had maybe changed and evolved a little in the intervening years, but not so much that a drummer couldn't adapt to them without missing a beat.  She knew when to speed up and when to slow down, when to give her more and when to back off, and how to ride the edge of almost until Clarke was ready – more than ready – for the crescendo.  </p>
<p>And she knew to be still after, to let Clarke luxuriate in it for a few moments, until she turned her head, ready for the kiss she knew would be waiting.</p>
<p>And they both knew without needing to ask when the other was ready for another go.  </p>
<p>Dawn tinted the sky gray before their bodies finally gave out, too sensitive to be touched anymore, except for the soft, sweet slide of skin on skin as they settled into the familiar shape of each other beneath the sheets, their heads sharing the same pillow as Clarke curved around Lexa's back and brushed her lips against the tattoo on the back of her neck like a worshipper might kiss a holy idol and whispered, 'I love you,' and 'Good night,' and was asleep before she heard Lexa whisper them back.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Clarke grumbled and groaned as the bed – or maybe it was just her? – shook.  Were they having an earthquake?  She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt one, and maybe she never had.  But her awareness expanded and she realized it wasn't an earthquake, but a person, rocking back and forth in her arms, trying to rouse her.  </p>
<p>And the night before came tumbling back in a cascade of bitter and then sweet memory, and she opened her eyes to Lexa's smiling face.  "Good morning," she said.</p>
<p>"Good morning," Lexa echoed, and accepted the kiss Clarke offered, but it was perfunctory and distracted and it was only then that Clarke noticed the note of distress in her eyes.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?"</p>
<p>"Nothing," Lexa said, "only I need to piss."</p>
<p>Clarke immediately released her grip on Lexa.  "Why didn't you get up and go?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I didn't want you to wake up alone," Lexa said, and there was a weight to the words that kept them both in place for a moment.  </p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Clarke said.  "Lexa..."</p>
<p>"I know," Lexa said, and then grimaced and added, "Be right back."</p>
<p>Clarke watched her retreat to the bathroom, enjoying the view, and enjoying it even more when she opened the bathroom door (because now that Lexa mentioned it...) and Clarke got to appreciate the other side, and steal a kiss as they traded places.  </p>
<p>And then it was back to bed because the apartment was chilly and the blankets were warm and Lexa was warmer still, especially when she was draped on top of Clarke, sated and spent.  </p>
<p>"I suppose you have class," Lexa said.  </p>
<p>"I suppose," Clarke agreed.  She did have class... but she'd already missed her 9 am, and did professors <i>really</i> expect anyone to show up before noon on the day after St. Patrick's Day?  And her 11 am never took attendance anyway, and always posted the PowerPoint afterward...</p>
<p>"Should I be letting you go then?"</p>
<p>Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa's neck and pulled her in and pressed her down.  "No," she said.  "Not now, and never again."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There are any number of recordings of this song, with slight variations on lyrics.  There is actually another verse that I only discovered/remembered after this story was written that seems particularly apropos, but I couldn't find a place to work it in:</p>
<p>A man may drink and not be drunk<br/>A man may fight and not be slain<br/>A man may court a pretty girl<br/>And perhaps be welcomed back again</p>
<p>Of course, if Lexa had sung it, 'a man' would have been replaced by 'And one' because she is no man, and she can sure still court a pretty girl.  😉</p></blockquote></div></div>
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